


birds of paradise

by americaiswaiting



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicide Attempt, out of character for a reason, slowly phasing back into character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americaiswaiting/pseuds/americaiswaiting
Summary: “when i closed my eyes and let water consume my head, i saw god. i saw myself, harry. i’m not human.” he stops. a darkened tear rolls down his cheek, pooling in eyebags, “when i dried myself off in the mirror with this towel draped over my head, i saw the virgin mary, but i saw myself.”





	birds of paradise

**Author's Note:**

> \- title is from birds of paradise by king tuff please listen to the song it fucks  
> \- peace AHH.... ahh a

when dale tries to kill himself, he makes himself look pretty.  
lipstick, mascara, a rosary, his favorite lingerie.  
it’s electric.  
he runs his fingers over the rosary.  
dale was never a religious man. he found the rosary in a bloody garbage can. the blood still stains the white, glass beads.  
dale is cold, hungry, standing in his bathroom, looking at himself in a dirty mirror (for the last time).   
he won’t let himself feed.  
he sees his ribs, scars on his chest, scars on his thighs, uniform, perfect scars in unison.  
dale stares at the bathtub. it’s full.  
he kneels over the bathtub as if he was praying, praying for something.  
dale whispers something that even he doesn’t know.  
the rosary hangs into the water.  
he covers his nose and mouth.  
dale dunks his head into the water, eyes closed.  
when dale’s head is completely immersed, dale sees god.  
dale sees himself.  
dale’s god is him in the mirror, just a moment ago.  
his whole life flashes before his closed eyes in the form of a void.  
it’s beautiful. it’s electric.  
dale stops. he lifts his head. hair plasters over his eyes.  
life isn’t suddenly worth living. he has to see himself.  
he wipes his face with the rug, runs to the mirror with a towel over his head.  
dale sees mary. dale sees himself, dripping, cracked, diseased.  
water seeps down, into his collarbones.  
he smiles. tears fall slowly.  
there’s a knock on the door.  
sickened, dale paces, proud and shameful both at once. he can’t see in the dark of his apartment, but the hallway is lit up when he opens the door, still hiding behind it.  
“does a dale cooper live here?”  
his breath hitches. “who are you?”  
“my name’s harry truman. i was a- uh, friend of his in high school. if you know him, i’d like to see him.”  
dale’s heart stops.  
he unhooks the door’s latch. dale closes his eyes. he won’t look at him.  
“dale?”  
“yeah.”  
“that you?”  
“yeah.”  
it’s dreaded. harry finally closes the door behind them.  
“what happened?”  
there’s a breathless silence. “i don’t know.”  
it stops. “you should sit down.”  
they do.  
it’s not a good feeling.  
“what happened?” harry repeats. the moonlight rings in their ears.  
“you interrupted something.” dale stops there.  
“oh. sorry.” harry looks down, ashamed, “what was it?”  
dale swallows. “i tried to drown myself.”  
harry stops. “huh.”  
“yeah.”  
“why?”  
dale looks up, facing harry for the first time in the night, “why?” harry nods. “a lot of reasons. i don’t know, i didn’t think i would live to be asked that.”  
“that’s alright. it’s good that you even told me this.”  
“it isn’t a good feeling.” dale snaps back shut.  
“oh. alright, sorry.”  
the night is a sweet, cold toothache on their skin.  
“i’m sorry.” it’s a mumble, it’s not sincere, it’s soft. he’s almost under attack. dale’s vision turns into a smear.  
“why?”  
dale shakes his head. he catches himself in a mirror. he’s blurry. dale looks to harry. harry is blurry, “for finding me like this. for finding me at all.”  
“yeah, i- i didn’t plan on coming in this late. and i thought you would be okay.”  
“i don’t blame you,” dale laughs. it’s fake and empty.  
in this moment, they’re both fake and empty.  
it’s silent. the silence is loud.  
“what’s with the getup?” harry almost immediately regrets that.  
dale blinks, he looks at harry through the mirror. it’s tense. “you wanna know?” harry nods. “it’s kinda morbid.” dale stops, waiting for harry to reject him.   
“i don’t care about morbid.”  
dale wipes one of his eyes with his fist, smudging mascara down his face. “i wanted to look good when i died. i wanted them to see a tragedy, a beautiful one.”   
harry blinks.  
dale licks his lips. “i’m glad alive. i’m glad i’m living to talk to you about this.”  
“good.”  
“when i closed my eyes and let water consume my head, i saw god. i saw myself, harry. i’m not human.” he stops. a darkened tear rolls down his cheek, pooling in eyebags, “when i dried myself off in the mirror with this towel draped over my head, i saw the virgin mary, but i saw myself.”  
harry leans back, coughs into his hand, he stares into his wrist. “huh.”  
he’s not wearing a watch, but he knows what time it is.  
he doesn’t know what to tell dale.  
“this-” harry clears his throat, “this doesn’t feel right.”  
dale sighs, “mmm-hmm.”  
“why?”  
“i’m different.”  
“you’re different.” harry nods.  
“i don’t like being different.”  
“you don’t?”  
“of course i don’t. you don’t like me.”  
“i still like you.”  
“harry,” dale presses his lips together, smiling weakly in it, “you don’t know that.”  
“i don’t know anything.” it freezes. “would you wanna go back?”  
“yeah.”  
“i can try. i could help you.”  
“you could.”  
dale feels innocence shot into his veins.


End file.
